


Natural Disasters

by xXdreameaterXx



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-05 09:58:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3115832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xXdreameaterXx/pseuds/xXdreameaterXx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What the Doctor would never admit to was the damage Missy had inflicted on him, his hearts and his mind, how the tempest of her being had blown through his head, scattering his sanity, his resistance, his good intent, never to be found again The Doctor tries to enter Missy's memories to find out what happened to her and gets more than he bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Natural Disasters

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Стихийное бедствие](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3638076) by [Greenmusik](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greenmusik/pseuds/Greenmusik)



Natural Disasters

She was a natural disaster, a hurricane sweeping waves through his TARDIS, through his hearts, leaving only chaos and destruction when she was done. The Doctor felt like he was waking up to a different person every single morning, never knowing which Missy he was going to find. It maddened him, confused him, never knowing where he stood, what she was about to do.   
“Take me somewhere nice,” Missy would ask him on several occasions.  
“I can't take you anywhere,” he'd reply, barely looking up from his book. He never had to. The Doctor knew exactly how she was standing there, arms akimbo, slightly rocking her hips. He knew the look on her face. He knew the tiny little twinkle in her icy blue eyes that betrayed her madness. He never had to look at her to know her. And yet, he didn't know her at all some days. That woman was a burning snow storm, a flooded desert, fiery rain. She was so many things and when the mood struck her, she wasn't any of them anymore.

He was telling himself that he kept the world save by keeping Missy in his TARDIS. Sometimes he even admitted that he was keeping Missy save from herself. What he would never admit to was the damage she had inflicted on him, his hearts and his mind, how the tempest of her being had blown through his head, scattering his sanity, his resistance, his good intent, never to be found again.   
The Doctor was filled with resentment every time he looked at her, feeling like the universe was playing the cruellest of jokes on him. Him and the Master, it had always been clear. They had been best friends, soulmates even, until he had gone mad. After that there hadn't passed a day the Doctor hadn't craved for his friend to come back.   
“I need my friend back,” she had pleaded, too, kneeling in front of him, surrendering her everything to him.   
She was the north to his south, the black to his white, the warmth to his cool, the Yin to his Yang. It must have been a cruel joke, her regeneration, like specifically crafting her to be his. He cursed temptation inside his mind, cursed their hearts that beat in unison. 

The Doctor never noticed Missy approaching, he only realized when she took the book from his hands and threw it over her shoulder.  
“I'm bored,” she stated, demanded he entertained her.  
“You're always bored. Can I have my book back now?” he asked, trying not to look at her.   
She tilted her head slightly. “You can't keep me a prisoner forever, love. I'm not your pet.”  
“Where would you want me to take you, then? Gallifrey? It now is as lost to you as it is to me.”  
“Right here,” she answered his question with a cheeky grin.   
The Doctor raised an eyebrow. “What?”  
“Oh, you heard me. I want you to take me. Right here,” Missy whispered in the sweetest of voices and drew even closer.  
“I suppose we're not talking about a geographical place?”   
He cursed himself under his breath. He shouldn't encourage her. Giving in to Missy's games was equal to opening Pandora's box, but resisting her was as easy as swimming against a stream.  
“I know you've been thinking about it. You've been thinking about it since the second you saw me,” she said as she lifted her skirt just as little and sat down on top of his lap, facing him. “Please, keep telling yourself otherwise. But it still doesn't make it any less true, Thete.”  
What could he say? She was right. The damn Mistress was right. Denying it would make him a liar, admitting it would get him into a really big mess.  
“You're always forgetting that one thing, Doctor. I am the one person in the world who knows you best,” Missy whispered as she lowered her mouth to his ear, slightly brushing it with her lips as she spoke, “I know your secrets, your fears, your hopes and dreams. I know things none of your precious companions has ever bothered to learn.”  
“You're evil and I hate you. Know this as well,” the Doctor breathed and took her face in his hands so she was forced to look at him.  
“Rule number one,” Missy purred in that accent that seemed to mock him even further, all the while never taking her eyes off him. His hands unintentionally slipped down to her thighs.   
“What?”  
“The Doctor lies,” as she spoke she began grinding her hips over his lap in slow but steady rhythm. He immediately felt the heat inside him rise.  
“Why are you doing this?” he breathed between his teeth, annoyed at the reaction of his own body. It was too damn easy for her.  
“You know why,” Missy let her head fall back and parted her lips slightly to utter a quiet gasp before looking straight back into his eyes, “You and I, we belong together.”  
The Doctor lifted his hands to her face again and pulled it down to kiss her lips. Of all the things he thought he'd do in his life, kissing the Master had never been on the list. But how could he resist her now, when she was perfect just for him? Kissing Missy was like everything else about her, they seemed to complete each other, and he couldn't help but wonder what sex with her would feel like. Every movement of his tongue, Missy countered perfectly while her hands wandered through his hair, pulling it gently. The Doctor was sure that by now she could feel his erection pressing against her. 

In a sudden moment of sanity the Doctor finally pushed her away. Missy was looking bewildered, as if she hadn't expected him to pull away from her. Her eyes were still gleaming with lust, but he could see that look slowly fade from her.  
“What's wrong?” she asked. Her mouth looked absolutely delicious now. Her lipstick was smeared but her lips still blushed naturally. The Doctor needed to look away, or he would succumb to her again.  
He grabbed Missy by the waist and pulled her into a standing position as he himself rose from the chair.   
“I won't play your games, Missy,” he finally said sternly, “Whatever game this is, I'm not playing it.”  
“Believe it or not, but this wasn't a game. It was just us, wanting each other,” her eyes widened as she spoke and the Doctor almost believed her.  
“No, this is you playing your little mind tricks. I won't be a part of it. Now, leave me alone,” the Doctor demanded and turned his back on her.   
He heard her approaching, but still he hoped she would just turn around midway and leave. Then he felt her hand softly touching his shoulder.  
“Please, Doctor, . . .”  
“I said,” he back turned around, now yelling at her, “leave me alone!”  
She was defeated and she seemed to realize it. Without further protest, Missy turned around and walked off, to her room probably, leaving the Doctor alone in the console room with a vast feeling of emptiness.

 

OOO

 

The Doctor heard nothing of Missy for the rest of the day. She never came back to the console room to annoy him further. So before he went to bed, he decided to check on her. The Doctor didn't know why and he refused to admit that he was feeling like he had made the wrong decision today.   
He opened the door to the room he had given her just a crack to peek inside and found Missy sleeping peacefully in her bed. She was still in her clothes, only her shoes and her jacket lay beside the bed and her long, dark curls were partly undone, covering the white pillow. The Doctor knew he should close to door and go to his own bedroom, he knew he should leave it and stop thinking about her, but against his better judgement, he drew closer to her. There were questions weighing on his mind, questions he had never dared to ask her, partly because he was afraid she might not answer, or lie to him, and partly because he still maintained the image that he simply didn't care about her, which could not be further from the truth.   
The Doctor stepped closer carefully so as not to wake her and sat down on her bed, pressing his forehead to hers. They had experimented with mental connections in their youth and the Master had always been better at it. But she was sleeping now, her guard was down and he might be able to see what he so desperately needed to see.  
“What happened to the drums, Missy?” he asked without speaking, using only the mental link he had created, “Do you still her them? Do they still drive you mad? How did you regenerate? Were you alone? You shouldn't have been. I wasn't alone the last time I did it. It is confusing enough, waking up, suddenly being someone else. You need someone to hold on to, to remember. I should have been there, Missy. You and me, we are always so wrong and ever so right, don't you think? What was it like, this time?”

OOO

The Master still wore the face of Harold Saxon, but he was mortally wounded. The Doctor was watching him in his TARDIS, as if he had actually been there when it had happened. He could see that his old friend was in great pain. Not long now and the golden glow would start emitting from his body and burst it, only to reassemble it in a completely different shape.   
The Master fell to his knees, fists clenched, his face a grimace of agony. Then the Doctor watched in horror how he slapped himself hard across his own face. He took a step forward, but remembered that the Master couldn't see him. There was nothing he could do to help ease his suffering.  
“Think! You stupid piece of shit, think!” the Master screamed and hit himself again, more brutally this time. Why would he have to think about? His body would regenerate, no matter what he did. Unless. . . River had once told him about her last regenerating, how she had imagined what she wanted to look like and because she had been distracted, she had gotten her size wrong. Was the Master trying to influence the outcome of his regeneration as well?  
The Doctor knew that the Master's time was up when the golden glow was starting to spread from his body. He heard him utter a single word, although he wasn't sure what word it was since it mingled with a cry of agony and then the Doctor went blind for a moment. When the light finally faded, there was Missy, lying unconscious on the TARDIS floor. She looked so fragile the Doctor almost forgot who she was. Seeing someone regenerate was almost like watching a phoenix burn and rise from its own ashes, innocent and pure. He head to remind himself that Missy was neither because he almost nearly believed it. She was lying there in the Master's suit that was much to big for her, her long hair spread over the floor and for now still completely unaware of what had happened. Then she finally stirred and opened her eyes. Within a second she was sitting upright as if the memory of her regeneration had suddenly struck her. She looked down at her legs and carefully lifted her hand to her head. She found hair where she apparently didn't expected to and took a streak of long, dark curls into her fingers, inspecting it closely.   
Missy jumped up, shrieking, seemingly startled by her voice. 

Suddenly the Doctor found himself standing in a different room, the bedroom of the TARDIS and Missy, still in the Master's suit, came storming in and stopped only in front of the mirror. She turned and turned in front of it, trying to see her new body from every possible angle. Now that she had seen herself, she didn't seem so shocked anymore. The Doctor watched as she threw the jacket away and started to strip out of her clothes. He knew that he should turn away and grant her privacy while she inspected her new form, but he was too mesmerized. The Doctor imagined that if he had suddenly turned into a woman, the next thing following would have been a mental breakdown. But not Missy. There was curiosity flaming in her eyes that finally seemed satisfied when she had gotten rid of the last layer of clothing and was standing naked in front of the mirror. A smirk appeared on her lips as she admired herself, turning again and again.   
“I am a woman. I am really a woman,” she said gleefully. “And I'm Scottish. Oh, I love it!”  
Missy jumped up, clapping her hands in excitement and twirled around again. She felt her own skin, sliding her hands all over her new body, still smiling. The Doctor suddenly felt guilty again for sneaking in on her most private memories, but he couldn't turn his eyes away from Missy. She was so beautiful and if he had been actually physically present, there was no guarantee he could have stopped himself him touching her.  
“I am the Master and I am a woman. No, I am. . . the Mistress. Mistress. Missy,” she stuck her tongue out to her reflection, then smiled again. “I am Missy.” 

He was in the bathroom of her TARDIS and apparently she had already redecorated. The Doctor wasn't sure how much time had passed between her regeneration and now and why he was still inside her head. All he had wanted to see was her regeneration. He wasn't really interested in her girly décor. It took him a moment to notice the already drawn bubble bath and that was when the Doctor realized he really shouldn't be here. Something had gone wrong with the telepathic link to Missy and he was still in her memory, trapped for the time being, until Missy woke up from her sleep and kicked him out of her head.  
The bathroom door opened and Missy stepped inside, dressed only a bath robe. The Doctor could see that some time must have passed since her regeneration. There were slight traces of make up on her face, although she didn't wear the red lipstick that he suddenly realized he loved, and her hair was tied back neatly.  
Missy loosened the belt of her robe that fell to the ground only an instant later. She stepped away from it and into the steaming bathtub.   
The Doctor started to wonder what would happen if he just left the room. These were her private memories after all and he felt like he was violating her if he stayed. Of course he wasn't physically present and couldn't touch anything, but when he stretched out his hand, the Doctor noticed that it went straight through the wall. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and stepped through the wall – only to find himself in the bathroom again. He cursed himself for not being better at working with mental connections. Something like this would have never happened to Missy. Missy. . .  
The Doctor turned around when he heard her breathing. She was lying in her bathtub, eyes closed, her hands moving somewhere beneath the soap bubbles. Involuntarily he moved closer and watched Missy, eyes still closed, her mouth parted delicately as her breathing got heavier. Moans escaped her mouth while she went on exploring her femininity for the first time. At this moment the Doctor found her to be utterly beautiful and nothing in the universe could have torn his gaze from her. He found himself wanting Missy like he had never wanted her before, not even as she had straddled him on his armchair earlier. He wanted to explore her body together with her, run his hands over her curves, through her hair, cover every inch of her skin with kisses, sink into her and merge into one. The Doctor noticed that she was nearing her climax and it made him half mad to stand there and watch.  
OOO

“Have you seen what you wanted to see?” he heard a familiar, purring voice just before the Doctor opened his eyes and found himself in Missy's bedroom. He was sitting in her bed again, the real him on a real bed. She was smiling at him knowingly.  
“Oh, honey, you didn't think I wouldn't notice if someone tried to invade my most private memories?” she asked in her mocking tone.   
“You did it on purpose,” the Doctor suddenly realized.   
Missy lifted herself in a sitting position and stared directly into his eyes. Her pupils were dilated and her breath came out in fast, short gasps. She was as aroused as he was.  
“You only ever saw what I wanted you to see, darling,” she leaned forward and grabbed him by the collar of his coat.   
He swallowed.  
“I needed proof that you want me,” she whispered, her lips so close to his, and one of her hands wandered down his chest until it found the fold of his trousers that didn't manage to hide his erection anymore. “I think I found it right here.”  
He couldn't stand the distance between the two of them any longer and crossed the last inches to kiss her. The kiss was loving and passionate, their lips and tongues brushing delicately. She tasted like the old days, like the air on Gallifrey, and like the dust of all the stars she had seen. All those times they had fought each other seemed erased, like they were kissing away the differences.  
“I want you,” he breathed into her mouth, “God, I want you.”  
Missy stripped away his jacket and tore open his shirt, running her long, red nails over his chest. Her touch made him shiver and he was surprised at how gentle she was with him, how gentle he was with her.   
The Doctor looked at her for a moment, taking in every detail about her face before cupping it in his hands and kissing her again. She run her fingers through his hair before she pushed him down onto her bed, seating herself on top of him and gave him a look of great expectations. Missy looked down on herself and started to unbutton her own blouse and throwing it, as well as her bra, across the room.   
The Doctor was sitting below her and only now dared to touch her. His hands ran along her stomach, trailing the lines of her rips before he pulled her down to kiss her again as if he was born to do just that, as if he could never get enough of her lips.   
Somehow she managed to wrestle free of his hold and her hands wandered down to his pants, opening his belt and stripping away the last pieces of clothing that separated them. The Doctor gasped as she trailed her tongue along his shaft and started sucking gently at the tip, teasing him to the extreme.   
“Say it again,” she whispered, running her hands over his thighs.  
“I want you,” he replied earnestly, grabbing her hands and pulling her up to face him. He turned both of them around in the sheets, positioning himself on top of her, keeping Missy in place by pinning her wrists to the mattress. He bent down, his lips caressing her neck, her collarbone, her breasts.   
Missy whimpered when he moved inside her, her body adjusting to his rhythm perfectly and he felt like every thrust was bringing him closer to home. He moaned as her nails dug into his flesh again. The Doctor pulled her up into a sitting pose and she positioned herself around him, rocking her hips against him. Her hair had come undone completely and the Doctor buried his fingers in it, pulling her in for yet another kiss. She breathed his name, his true name, against his lips as she came, simultaneously sending her feelings into his mind that caused him to follow her and the waves of pleasure hit him and he felt like he was falling. Falling back unto the mattress, still holding Missy tightly in his arms.   
He remained silent for a long while and was surprised that Missy did the same. He listened to the beating of her hearts, so close to his own. 2000 years of knowing each other, fighting each other had lead to this. After 2000 years they were finally perfect for each other and the Doctor thought that even if he never found Gallifrey again, he was at least holding the most important part of home in his arms right now.


End file.
